Nocturne In The Night
by ImagineI
Summary: 'He bowed his head to her collarbone so reverently...She was his altar. It was blasphemous, but it was suddenly crystal clear to her that she was his religion... And he was... Well, hers.' One night. Their night. Romance, angst, lemon. M Themes.
1. Deep Breath

**Hello** and welcome! This will be a multi-chapter fiction based around one night, just one. I promise angst, fluff and lemon. Let me know what you think : ) Hope you enjoy!

EDIT: Had to renew a few typos. Hope readers are enjoying this! 98 visitors so far and I only published this yesterday, so happy it seems to be entertaining people. It would be great to hear what people think : )

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Nocturne (In The Night)

Chapter 1: Deep Breath

Marian

What shocked Marian the most was how very young she felt. It was an intense, unnerving sensation that hummed under her skin and invaded her veins, rushing to her heart with all the panic of a small bird fleeing from the attack of an eagle.

It was not a physical affliction past that feeling, however. Though it prickled icily under her cheeks, they were not as rosy as they had been in her youth. There was now a new strength that had come with those fine cheekbones. And though her heart did race as it had done when Robin has chased her through the fields in her childhood, her chest was now more prominent a feature. Marian did not have the wispy, tall figure that so many ladies at Court did. She filled her dresses with a figure that resembled an elegantly carved vielle, a stringed instrument she had seen played at great dinners.

And my did Guy play her that night- that, their wedding night.

Marian stood facing an oval mirror in a little chamber, wearing a cotton shift. There was a door, whose carpentry was nothing too significant and yet its role as entry to Guy's chamber seemed to make it pulse, shadow-like, out of the corner of her vision. She had not had the chance to compare her grown body to that of her contemporaries, so she did not know the norms of female flesh, was not acquainted with personal preparations. She certainly had some insecurities.

There was lines at her waist when she bent slightly from side to side, but when standing, the curve from her ribcage along her hip was pleasant enough. A soft, golden down of hair, covered her stomach and legs, almost imperceptible. She often thought her lips were too small, but this was a very rare thought, as vanity was not a notable vice of hers. It certainly was of Guy's...

Nonetheless, tonight was a night for appearances. She had no idea how many other women Guy had lain with and- in traditional Marian fashion- felt a responsibility to compete.

And win.

She bit her lower lip and licked it tentatively, nerves parading up and down her throat. She took a deep breath. She swallowed, watching her mouth burn redder than a rose once she released it. Flexing her fingers by her sides, her eyes darted over the lights and shades of her barely concealed body, shivering now. There had to be a fire ready in Guy's chamber... her eyebrows knitted together as she anxiously contemplated the other promised warmths. Judging by how hot Guy's hand as been at the altar, as he had held it before God this afternoon...

Marian's chest rose faster. Her toes scrunched inwards on the wooden boards beneath her feet.

She sniffed, inhaled through her nose, then more deeply through her mouth, swallowed...

And then repeated the process.

Again.

Then again.

Faster. Then she added a grit of her teeth to the routine.

Her eyes flitted from her glossy, tumbling hair, illuminated by the golden candlelight, to her slender knees, her strong thighs, her softly rounded tummy- which began to tighten in panic- and finally her sex.

Not wholly unexplored territory and yet not chartered either. Marian was curious, naturally, but she was scared too of the fierce sensations she had experienced alone but never fully pursued.

She was scared. And she hated it, hated the fear she felt and so glared at herself in the mirror as she panted. Terrified tears leapt to her eyes in an instant and she felt sicker than she could ever remember feeling. Knowing Guy was in the next room, she gasped quietly as she could and attempted to hold back her sobs.

She would lie with a man who had killed. A man who had tortured. A man who had defied the power of the human spirit time and time again for greed and selfish gain...

There was one place Marian had not dared to look, but did now:

The silvery scar above her right hip. The site of the stab-wound authored by her now husband.

It had been during one of her attacks as Nightwatchman... he had, Marian reminded herself, not known it was her; been protecting his home, his guards...

'Marian, please ~ let us start anew.'

Marian glanced at the scroll which lay on a table nearby, left for her there when she had arrived. Judging by the stature of the candles, that had been almost an hour ago now.

And Guy had not interrupted her. His impatience- predicted by Marian- had not reared.

She gripped her cotton shift in an attempt to dry her palms.


	2. Wildfire and Memories

**Hello** and welcome! This will be a multi-chapter fiction based around one night, just one. I promise angst, fluff and lemon. Let me know what you think : ) Hope you enjoy!

Definitely some raunch in this here chapter ; ) I reckon the build-up is worth it. I definitely enjoyed writing this one, although the computer's stubborn belief that Marian's name was, in fact, martian, did rattle me a little...

EDIT: Renewed a few typos here too. Sorry! Thank you very much to Bast and Twinklecut87 for your lovely reviews and to Bast to bringing attention to the typos : ) I hope I can hear from other readers soon. Hope you enjoy!

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Nocturne (In The Night)

Chapter 2: Wildfire and Memories

Guy

Guy sat at the end of his bed, watching the snow-white crescent moon and the peppered stars out of the small square window on the wall opposite the door that led to where Marian was preparing herself. At least, she was supposed to be. He could not be sure. He was in a large room, the bed and the fireplace the only apparatus. The rest of the room was spacious. He had removed several trunks and trinkets when he had remembered how once Marian had declared that she could not feel comfortable surrounded by objects whilst others so nearby suffered and starved.

His chest was bare, muscled and auburn by the firelight, hands held in his lap, legs dressed in cotton braes. So many times, Guy had expected things of Marian, had tried to predict her course of action. But it was a futile exercise. She was not- as Guy had learnt the hard way- a tamed creature, despite her courtly training and upbringing. Today had been the second ceremony he had held with her. Today, all had gone to plan. Almost. For all he knew, she had escaped, had humiliated him once again. He smirked sardonically at the thought and imagined a third wedding in the distant future, where one more step could be taken towards a legitimate marriage. He had realised- after lying to the Sheriff about the Nightwatchman's identity- that he would do anything to secure her happiness. As for tonight, it was a joint joy, a shared pleasure,_ their_ happiness that he sought.

Several times, sitting there minute after minute, Guy had to close his eyes and fist his hands in an effort to restrain himself from storming into Marian's chamber. The fantasies that had been born a thousand times in his mind roared through him like wildfire and memories of those dewy green eyes, of her graceful, skilled hands- hands that had masterfully fought against him when she had been behind that mask- flickered through his imagination. Her smiles, her frowns, her disappointed glances and stony disposition. The stars that befell her eyes when he had truly pleased her, the way the sunlight caressed her skin...

The way she argued. Her disobedience. Her power as a warrior. Her morals. Her voice, honey-like and rich, not glassy and high-pitched like the ladies at Court...

Those thin brows, how sternly they framed her face sometimes, her intelligence... Guy stared at the navy night sky.

It all intimidated him. It all inspired him. It all-

"I cannot do it. I cannot start anew." Guy did not move. He waited. More. "We... we are what we have lived through. Both of us have pushed the other near the brink of death at some point. But... but it has made us stronger." Guy smiled softly and closed his eyes once more- her voice was so unsteady and yet it seemed to smooth over his stresses like some buttery balm. She, the woman who had escaped, attacked and tricked him time and time again... "That we have both survived- surely... surely that is a sign." How like Marian to speak at length at such a time, at such a time when words should be hushed for sounds, for treasured breaths... "A sign that we should be locked. Wedlocked, we are now, but time has shown how twined we are to be..." Enough.

Guy sprung up, did not sacrifice a single second to absorb her appearance, did not pay heed to her frightened steps back as he advanced. In four swift strides, he held her face in his hands and swooped down to kiss her. She did not recoil. In fact, neither of them moved for many moments. It was a frozen pause. A sweet-tempered peace graced the air as rain began to pitter-patter outside, eventually sending a slight chill into the room.

Marian felt the cold instantly, even though the fire in the hearth was hearty, and pulled back from Guy with a minor moan- as if to speak again- but Guy persevered. He stroked her cheeks and stroked the silk of her neck with his knuckles as he kissed her again, trembling a little with his constraint; he mustn't spook her.

She tried again to disconnect.

"Guy, I-"

"Marian." It was a whispered warning and in it came the proof of how much older he was than her: nine years. His words tingled against her lips. "I know the past. What I want is to earn your... forgiveness, your blessing and to rectify my reputation so that I may be a husband worthy of honour-" he stroked away a stray tear from her eyelash and inspected her beauteous face- "and a man our... our children can learn from. I want to be a man of the future. With you."

"Guy..." Marian sighed, stunned. He had not yet looked into her eyes for fear of forgetting himself, losing himself and succumbing to pure lust. Instead, he gently curled her loose hair behind her pink ear and stroked down her arms.

"I have left Vasey. I have..." He sighed. "I have offered my services to the Queen."

Guy watched as Marian's rose-red lips popped open and he swallowed with thirst. With hunger.

"But this is for later, Marian," he murmured, dancing his fingers between hers, rubbing the centre of her palms with his thumbs. Steadily, she held his hands with a light pressure that made Guy ache all the more for her timid disposition, a rare, precious form of her capriciousness. He could sense, almost smell, her innocence, her virtuosity and he grew hard at the thought of their potential ecstasy.

The rain fell a little harder now, a rush of natural music that brought a cool air, which had brought both of Marian's teats to peak against his torso. The musky, fruity scents of hay and apples drifted in too. He would have closed the window if it weren't for the fresh, calming effect it also seemed to cast upon both of them. Her warm breath heated his lips, their faces a mere inch apart.

"Please," Guy suddenly whispered in a darkly desperate tone, squeezing her hands a fraction too tightly. "Please let me..." he took a few breaths and embraced their bodies together. It soothed an unnameable ache inside of him to have her in his arms so intimately, to feel like he could protect her... teach her...

His forehead rested on hers as he sighed, his frustrations deeply audible.

"I know you do not love me..." She did not utter a word to this, only sighed and gulped quietly as his hold strengthened and his fingers travelled suspensefully across her lower back. "Let me..." he repeated- but he could not finish his sentence. With a firm resolve Guy recognised with a thrill, Marian kissed him with a sigh that sounded so passionately satisfied that Guy groaned with no inhibition whatsoever. He gripped her with an almost wild power and her hands- cold for some unearthly reason- held his face as he journeyed back towards the bed. A drenched, black cat pounced up onto the windowsill and began to groom itself, but it went unnoticed.

Her fingers scratched his stubble again and again and by the urgency and those small, small sounds she made, Guy could tell that she enjoyed the texture. He couldn't help but let that arrogant little smirk of his escape from its confines as he fainted backwards and she fell on top of him, his hot tongue momentarily escaping too and flicking teasingly against her's.

Once fallen, Marian's energy faltered. Guy's chest rose impressively as he smiled kindly and took control. History had shown them to be equals in combat, but this was Guy's element, his true talent if he was completely honest with himself (which was surprisingly rare).

Marian's shift had flared outwards with the force of their fall and Guy could feel her sex, warm and soft and wet, through his thin braes. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed and her hands landed on his wide, defined chest. Guy was sure she could feel him too. He sniffed- as he was prone to do when he was pleased with himself- and raised his torso. Delicately, he slipped her shift over one shoulder and warmed her skin with his mouth, grazing her skin afterwards with his stubble and hardening even more- it felt like- when she sighed and shivered. He kissed softly up her neck and behind her ear, shuffling a little underneath her so as to provoke adequate stimulation for them both. She settled atop him admirably but there was a tension that had not yet dissipated.

As he nuzzled into her hot hair, his hands glided under her shift and up her thighs. There were small rough areas of skin amidst the silkiness but truthfully, nothing could have deterred him then. He licked the most delicate features of her ear and bit her earlobe, gaging her capacity for pain. Bu the way she scratched down his bulky arms, she enjoyed a fair amount and he growled indulgently. It was not so much that Guy wanted either of them in pain, more that he knew what was to come might be more than a discomfort for Marian. He needed to know he was not going to hurt her.

He rested his hands at the tops of her thighs- his and Marian's bodies dappled with a myriad of temperatures- and pursued the kissing of her neck and throat, which she seemed to intensely revel in. He would lick up her throat as she inhaled then pause, effectively forcing her to hold her breath and then, at the most critical moment, he would squeeze her thighs gently and kiss and nip his way back down. After a minute or two of this, Marian suddenly clutched at his black, black hair and drew him up to kiss her mouth. He obliged only too willingly, but she whimpered slightly and- not really aware of her actions only her desires, which pleasured Guy to no end- she rocked her hips forward as she tried to coax his tongue out with her own, though her technique was obviously inexperienced. Guy tensed everywhere as she ground against him, a carnival of joy coursing through him as he chuckled lowly, breaking away from her. He was relieved, too, to have been allowed to get this far.

"What?" Marian inquired breathlessly, almost angrily. He smiled that wolfish, half-cocked smirk and stroked down her inner thighs and round to stroke up her back. Angling his head in a very precise manner, he whispered,

"Like this," and then re-engaged their kiss. Slowly, he sort of tamed her frantic tongue and guided her until she began to catch on to the optimum style, growing ravenous quickly.

"Okay," Guy murmured, arousingly soothing. "Okay..." They continued in this way for a while but when Guy grew bigger, he secured Marian to him with one strong arm and bucked up to get more comfortable. Marian cried out in surprise and he sent her a cunning and knowing sort of smile before reaching under to shift to feel her spine as it arched, straightened then re-arched into him. He soon lost all patience for the shift and only just controlled himself. Bunching the hem of it in his hands, he looked into Marian's eyes and was momentarily hypnotised by the way they sparkled- had he made them do that? He swallowed.

"May I...?" He tugged a little at the shift. He felt her stiffen and he sighed as she clenched her jaw and began to regain her apprehension: he could see small creases above her eyebrows that told him so. Slowly, he leaned forward and breathed into her ear,

"It will be good. I promise you." He felt like he should have aded that he would stop at any time, but he did not think he would be able to stop himself now. The rain continued to prance and spit outside.

Marian's hands fell from his shoulders to his wrists limply. Something was not right.

"How many...?" she suddenly asked. Her tone and the situation explained what she meant. Guy felt a little uncomfortable.

"I don't know." He was being honest in the kindest way and thankfully she seemed to sense it.

"Many?" Guy's face became serious.

"Not recently, no."

"But-"

"Yes." Yes, he had been with many women. This seemed to greatly displease Marian and before Guy could catch her, she unsaddled herself and walked across the room though mercifully nowhere near the door. By the dimming fire, Guy could just about perceive the shape of the back of her body under that shift, which was currently his greatest enemy. It was a voluptuous body, though still petite in many ways.

"You enjoy it, don't you?"

Guy fell back against the bed, exasperated and frustrated in more ways than one. Marian was panicking, it wasn't hard to tell.

"Yes," he replied, patiently.

"You change when... well, you changed just now..."

"I can change. I am changeable." Guy resisted gritted teeth- if things were to go well, then Marian had to be comfortable and if this relaxed her then so be it.

"Do they enjoy it?"

Guy exhaled through his throat without opening his mouth, deciding how to reply as tactfully as possible.

"I heard once." Marian's words shocked him a little and he raised himself on his elbows. She had turned around by now and as Guy admired her figure, he caught her observing his chest and arms. He sniffed. Before Guy could do or say anything to the knowledge that she had heard him with another woman, she looked away from him and raised her shift at the same time.

Then it was off.

And she was coming towards him.


	3. Floating and Falling

**Hello** and welcome! This will be a multi-chapter fiction based around one night, just one. I promise angst, fluff and lemon. Let me know what you think : ) Hope you enjoy!

And it continues...

EDIT: Some shameful typos, tututut, not like me at all. Must strive harder. Hope you enjoy!

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Nocturne (In The Night)

Chapter 3: Floating and Falling

Marian

The transformation of Guy's face almost made Marian forget her thoughts on Robin. She had been steadily forgetting him during the night, but his face and their experiences persisted. What insisted against the guilt she felt was the overcoming desire for Guy. A symphony of all of his deeds, all his stormy looks, shimmered through her mind. His efforts to change, to be a better man... she believed them. She also believed she could help.

And she believed she could be proud.

Revulsion, swift and merciless, drowned her heart for a second as she saw- in her mind's eye- the wrath in Guy's eyes when he had entombed her home in flames; when he had stabbed a defenceless man; when he had practically pawned her off to that foreign count with such malicious delight-

This? This was what she had longed for, what she stood naked before? The spontaneous confidence she had had a moment ago when she had wanted to prove her capability as a wife- as a woman!- slithered away and she cowered back, although Guy had not made an advance. He just lay there, propped up on his elbows, staring at her with... awe, it seemed like.

When she flinched, he sat up, eyes intent on her stomach. His gaze burned more than the warmth of the fire by her ankles.

But, fast, memories of a Guy before Robin had returned, glowed softly in her mind.

She recalled how he had sat- his index finger touching his lips as he concentrated on the Sheriff's words- at a long table in the Great Hall during a grand supper three summers ago. She had been sitting a seat away from him and heard these words:

"Would it not make more sense, my Lord, to be kind to them. Would they not work harder for it?" Vasey had laughed.

"You would have them walk all over you, Gisbourne! They are not there to love, but to labour. These are peasants, Gisbourne and deserve as much as they are."

"Nothing!" a Baron had called over, in jest.

"Exactly, Wilbur, exactly! No, no, no, no, no- they will not have more than a quarter acre more and as for those cows, two to them and sell the rest for profit. If you want power, Giz, like me, then you need to command it. No compromise."

Marian knew for a fact that there had been three cows in Locksley Farm the next day and it could only have been Guy who had arranged it.

What had turned Guy so cold since? His pursuit of Robin. And of her. And had she helped that? No. She had solicited seduction and then spurned him. How saintly was that!

Marian looked down at the floor, thinking deeply, so distracted by her many thoughts that she almost forgot she was naked and that Guy was still staring...

Had he not brought her that horse? That horse she loved and fit her so well? Surely that was not coincidence. And he had saved her from that tree, that fire, despite the pretence it truly was...

She had lied, teased him, wounded his men, humiliated him in front of his province... hit him at the altar! And how he had had his revenge...

When he had tried to bed her after her father's death, she had been disgusted by his advances and yet, who was to say that he had not just been trying to comfort her, to distract her?

In all truth, she had secretly been very entertained by the banter they created whenever she was trying to fool him... she anticipated it. He could match her in slyness, in wit and could she really blame him for his distrust after she had been- admittedly- cruel herself?

Why had she agreed to marry him this time... it was a plan between Robin and her so she could feed better information to him and quicker. Guilt gripped her shoulder blades. She'd never really given Guy a chance to prove himself. He was trapped, himself... and now he said he had pledged his allegiance to the Queen...

For her?

Robin. Her love. She loved him. There was no doubt of that. He had been there with her always, had excited her and loved her even when he wasn't there...

She vaguely remembered Guy from her childhood. One memory stood out.

She had been running. She had fallen. She had cut her knee. She had been very young, only about four, which would have made Guy thirteen and just before she had been about to cry, he had scooped her up, appearing from nowhere, from the ground, brushed the dry dirt from her dress and smiled...

_So_ kindly.

Then he had gently pushed her towards where her father was talking with a farrier.

Later, whilst she was having supper with her father and her mother (who had died when she was ten), there had been a knock at the door and when a maid had opened it, there stood Guy, in that navy cape of his. So serious. Marian couldn't remember exactly what he had said, but it was something like

"I just wanted to make sure the little Lady of Knighton's leg had been amputated well." He seemed so serious that Marian and her parents did not catch on straight away that he was joking, but once her father did and he laughed, Marian and her mother giggled too.

God, she had loved her mother... so beautiful, so elegant and fine-featured, so gentle and almost taller than her father... Marian remembered how warm her hugs had been and her blossom-like scent.

"I've brought a remedy from my mother for the cut. Should let it heal well." Guy had attempted a smile then.

"Oh, thank you, Guy. Come in!" her father had invited.

"No, no. Thank you, sir, but I must head back home." And he passed a vial to the maid, bowed slightly, then left.

"Such a sweet boy. Such a hard life." That had been her mother's measure of him.

Standing in Guy's chamber sixteen years later, her mother's words echoed in her mind repeatedly. She remembered how the Gisbourne's house had been on fire, how there had been a few casualties, but she did not know who and then he had disappeared for much over a decade.

Something hot above her hip shocked her out of her reverie: Guy was kneeling before her, his mouth on the cicatrix of that near-fatal wound. One hand rested on her stomach and the other held the side of her hip. He was so warm. She quivered, vulnerable and weakened by his gentleness but tense with her thoughts. He pulled back and kissed the spot again, his tongue pressing tenderly over the exact location.

She couldn't move. It was like she was in a dream and the sensations caused by Guy's presence and his position felt like floating and falling at the same time. He did have an incredibly dramatic presence, both in aura and body. He was overwhelming. Her heart was racing again, dangerously, as he stroked his fingers round her hip and abdomen- causing a ticklish shiver- and pressed the pads of his fingers around the scar like a fence, leaning in to kiss it once more-

"I can't." Two tears dripped from her eyes. "I can't. I can't." Her voice was no more than a whisper.

Guy went rigid. She saw a small muscle in his shoulder tense as he sank down, arms dropping.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this. I... I..."

"Marian, you're going to kill me," Guy hissed, his breath chilling her shins. "You're making this impossible. We. Are. Married. This is my right." He bit the words out. Marian gripped both her forearms and nodded, teary and angry for it.

"I don't know you! You're so many people, but you've done so many... committed so many sins. I don't think I can redeem you. It's too great a power and I-"

"I don't care if you don't redeem me, or if you think you won't. I know. I know you already have. If you weren't _you_, have faith- I... I wouldn't have controlled myself thus far."

"You've killed-"

"Haven't you?" Guy immediately interrupted, glaring up at her. The Dark Angel was before her now, half his face in shadow and the other bathed in caramel light. She gasped soundlessly and glared back, covering her breasts with her folded arms. She was, in a tiny part of her mind, surprised that Guy made no move towards a more intimate area. They glared for a long, long moment, before Guy rumbled out a sigh and shot past her leg, grabbed her shift and threw it up at her to cover herself. Then he stood up with such ease and speed Marian flinched before slipping back into the shift. Guy had stormed out of the room before she could say anything more. She heard him stomp through her little chamber and then through the door she had entered through after the banquette. She stared at the bed in a daze.

She could run. She could run and find Robin and hide.

But her heart plummeted at the thought. Why had she really married Guy? Purely for advantage. No. That was a lie she had told herself and Robin. Secretly, she had always hoped she could help Guy become who he wanted to be, to free the Guy he had been before he'd lost love or any chance for it. She was his chance. She wanted to be. She wasn't scared of him- not entirely. She was scared she wasn't strong enough to make a lasting difference. But she missed him. She wanted him. She couldn't deny it and Lord knows Robin would begrudge her enacting her wifely duties but didn't he put his duties as England's Hero and Saviour above her? She didn't hate him for it, England needed him.

And Marian needed...

She flew through the room, through the little chamber- where for a second she spied herself hours before, standing there so nervously- and then whipped through the second door expecting Guy to be gone down the stairs. But he was there, standing over a basin of water, with his hands clutching the table beneath it, on either side.

"Just go, Marian," he snarled, turning his head away. His hair dripped. "Go!" he barked.

"I'll not be commanded."

Guy breathed out a low laugh and shook his head.

"No..." he whispered. She moved behind him, glided, and admired his back, gilded with sparse candlelight. His position of Master At Arms and his life sword training and horse riding had gifted him with, it had to be said, a magnificent specimen of the male body. It was only Robin's speed that allowed him to win and the backing of five other men and Djaq.

Now she was in awe. Her eyebrows drew together as she caught sight of a few long scars that veered off his spine. Her fingers explored. Guy sighed slowly and bent further over, but he did not move beyond that.


	4. Dark, Dark Light

**Hello** and welcome! This will be a multi-chapter fiction based around one night, just one. I promise angst, fluff and lemon. Let me know what you think : ) Hope you enjoy!

Finally... really, it depends on how much sympathy I have for Guy *he he he he he*

By the way, may I have a show of hands for how many people DESPISE the Season 2 Finale and think it is ridiculous?

Recommendation for the songs 'If You Go' by The Hothouse Flowers and 'Save Tonight' by Eagle-eye Cherry. Oh, and without a doubt, 'The Blower's Daughter' by Damien Rice. And 'Where The Wild Roses Grow' by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, as well as their song 'O Children'.

Feedback of any breed would be awesome : )

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Nocturne (In The Night)

Chapter 4: Dark, Dark Light

Guy

Yet again she had won him. But he was hers and always had been. It was inevitable. He was tired, however, of being spun in and out with so little warning and it hurt when he caught fear or, even worse, hate in her eyes.

Her fingers were more delicate than feathers and it felt peculiar to be touched on those nearly numb scars. Was he being conned again? She was a true artiste in that trade.

"Marian..." he breathed, surrendering. He barely breathed after that- she seemed to slip into him like the air he needed and as her palms moved under his arms to rest on his chest, it was...

It was like she was unravelling him, gathering all the jumbled tempest of his past and...

Accepting him.

He felt her hot cheek caress him between his shoulder-blades and closed his eyes.

"I want this to be right, Guy, If we are... to be married, we must make decisions together. We must be on the same path. No secrets."

"I have never kept secrets from y-"

"Guy."

He exhaled and nodded, sorely.

"Swear to me."

He turned around in her arms, catching sight of the trepidation and desire that warred in her eyes.

"I know I have sinned. I have not married you for the sole purpose of saving myself. I have married you because I love... I love... I love you."

Her eyes swam with a myriad of emotions, smoky and transient.

He towered over her but was so close that the concept of distance disappeared from their universe.

"I can't be trapped, Guy. I can't. I need you to be who you are with me, with the world- with the people you serve and serve you. I've seen your cruelty, but I've seen your charm too and I promise you if you strive to promote that light... that _good_..."

"Marian," Guy murmured, gingerly twisting a lock of her hair between his fingers, his breath enchanting her cheek and her fluttering eyelids. He must have sensed how close she was to a decision.

"Then... then I will promise to stay by your side. Forever."

Her words had a sublime effect on his body.

Marian

"I can't be possessed, though, Guy. I will run. I need to know I'm safe, I can't be affiliated with such callous... any child of mine cannot..."

Guy was shaking his head, dark waves of hair brushing his shoulders as Marian spoke. He moved closer and closer to her as she spoke faster, trying to persuade herself that this was a difficult decision, complex. But it wasn't complex at all. Through it all, she was inevitably drawn to him, felt irrevocably healed in his presence as though this was her calling. It was like cherubs and demons had laced heavenly and hellish string between their bodies, their fates.

A web weaved eternally. It was a dark, dark light.

Memories, the past, nightmares- they blew away with the dust.

And as for her words, her protests-

They were consumed by his breath, his heartbeat in her mouth and hands simultaneously.

He was speaking too. A million promises, a million, threaded under her skin by his tongue and fingers. What she had said about wanting him to be the same with the world as with her... it could not be wholly fulfilled. For this passion would send Nottingham in scarlet smoke. This fire was for her alone.

She threw her arms around his neck as she gave in and he bent, provided a seat with his arms and pulled her up. She wrapped her legs around her waist like it had been choreographed beforehand, but nothing could have been more natural. He groaned a deep, deep groan, as though in pain and had her up against the wall faster than she could breathe- he didn't give her a _chance_ to breathe as he kissed her over and over and over again, fathomless kisses that engulfed her and sent spirals sparkling and whooshing through her.

"_Mon amour...la mienne...la mienne...dieu, je vous remercie..." _He crushed her against the wall with those words, those exotic breaths, as he praised her neck and held her so tightly she almost fell into his body, merged with him as a new second soul.

"French?" she asked, breathlessly, tentatively touching his lower lip as he looked up at her in rapture. He nodded as he leaned forward and licked the dip in her collarbone. Breath fled from her body as unexplainable, almost painful, pleasure knotted around her in undulating tendrils, everywhere inside and outside. She craved the rain now, the cold, but craved this more.

His fingers flared out on the side of her neck like the wings of a bird.

"_Belle...céleste..._"

Her fingers flourished through his hair as he groaned throatily again, resting his forehead above her breasts and grinding into her just slightly. She couldn't hold back the softest moan.

He drew up and kissed her languorously, stepping back and moving them both back to the bedroom. She twisted her neck from side to side as she kissed him, searched and re-searched for the source of this splendour but realised soon it was him, all him.

"I forgive you," she whispered into his mouth as they got to the side of the bed. She kissed his forehead before her carefully lowered her onto the bed, settling between her legs, which she had already spread so she could wrap them back around him as quickly as possible.

He stroked and kissed up the centre of her body from her stomach, over her shift, to her mouth, lifting her shift as he went. She made no resistance when he slipped it off her completely and dropped it onto the floor behind her head. Their torsos melted together and they both shivered at the unique feeling, soft against hard, hot against hotter. They were lying over the sides of the bed but neither of them cared.

His eyes were possessed, nebulous and twinkling as her fingers travelled up his spine, his neck... then down again. He began to kiss her once more, so deeply, hands stroking her hair back from her face. He smelt smoky, like rosemary and sweet like hay and...

Familiar. Oh so familiar.

His tongue did devilish things to her shoulder and neck, one hand moving Marian's leg up so her knee was raised and by his hip, foot on the bed. His other hand was breezing its way up her other thigh, fingers so close to her sex that she almost choked with desire. She sighed passionately and let her head fall over the side of the bed for a second, nails digging into his shoulders, but surged back up with a startled gasp as he breathed over a breast then lavished it with a swipe of his tongue before capturing it with his whole mouth.

And sucking.

It was unthinkable, bewildering, delirious, hot, _so hot_...

Her thighs clenched on his hips and he ground hard against her, preparing for another thrust but was shocked himself as Marian's hands interrupted his motion and began to fumble with the laces at the front of his braes. He jerked back in sensitivity but quickly raised his hips to allow her better access. He watched her face as she frantically tried to untie them and smirked, but in a flattered sort of way. Arrogance was near non-existent. Once she had undone them, stroking him without thinking and bewitching his entire nervous system, he slipped out of them gently.

She was panting now, eyes closed as she lay back and swallowed, doubtless as enthralled by the sensation of their bodies so snug together.

They began to breathe in tandem, he inhaling as she exhaled, staring at one another, giving way to the magic that passed between their eyes and coated their bodies.

He bowed his head to her collarbone so reverently her heart skipped several beats, sweat and pulses palpable. She was his altar. It was blasphemous, but it was suddenly crystal clear to her that she was his religion which he had found. Finally found. And he was her... Well, hers. She had to take care of him.


End file.
